


Stay

by SeemaG



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Coda, Episode: s04e09 Random Thoughts, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-09-26 19:47:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20395174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeemaG/pseuds/SeemaG
Summary: A coda to "Random Thoughts." Tom is forced to reevaluate his relationships with various members of the crew as he helps B'Elanna deal with the aftereffects of her experience on the Mari homeworld.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Characters and places belong to Paramount. No profit or infringement intended.
> 
> My gratitude to Rocky and Monica for the original betas in 2001; Rocky and zakhad gave this a fic once over for the 2019 revision and I'm grateful for their thoughts and comments in updating this story.
> 
> Originally written and posted to ASC in 2001; minor rewrites and editing for reposting.

As I roll over in bed, my hand brushes up against the cool skin of her thigh; she stirs and then props herself up on her elbow to look at me, that dark hair, tips curling, brushing against her cheeks. In the dim light, B’Elanna’s expression is shadowed.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I say softly.

"So you really were going to go through with this crazy plan of yours to rescue me from the Mari?" she asks without preamble, continuing an earlier conversation that had been interrupted.

I reach up to cradle her jaw in my hands.

"Yeah," I say.

"You were going to disobey the Captain for me?" she sounds curiously pleased. "Subvert the Prime Directive?"

"No question," I answer. I shift my position slightly, wrapping my arms around her. “The Prime Directive isn’t always right, you know.”

"Listen to you, the son of a Starfleet admiral.” Now she’s teasing. "What would your father say?”

I brush my lips against her cheek.

"Admiral Paris isn’t here,” I tell her. Owen Paris, the Daedalus to my Icarus, is both always and never on my mind. “And even if he was, I don’t care what he’d say.” 

She puts her hand on my chest and leans down to kiss me, her teeth gently grasping my upper lip. Her breath is warm against my skin. I hold her close, but she strains slightly away from me, her eyes luminescent as she runs her fingertips down the curve of my chin.

“I almost believe you,” she says.

“What part?”

“That you don’t care what your father thinks.”

At least she doesn’t doubt that I would have come for her, Prime Directive or not. In this way, we’re so much alike. Rules and regulations exist to be thrown out when the circumstances dictate. 

I want to tell her how she looks to me at this moment, gentle, soft and utterly pliant. I want the Mari to see her now, the way she moves over me, her eyes never leaving my face. I want them to see her as I do, someone more than a bundle of angry energy and fierce thoughts. In this moment, as I pull her down to me, we are so far removed from the suggestion of violence.

*****

Over the next few days, she insists nothing’s wrong, so I drop the question. I know if our positions were reversed, I'd hate someone hovering over me every single second, but I notice little things which make me worry and I can't help myself. For the first time in forever, I have someone in my life I feel anxious for.

So I say nothing when she seems to have forgotten the way to the Mess Hall, that there are moments when words dry up at the edge of her tongue because she can’t seem to remember what she wants to say. And so I tamp down the curl of worry in my stomach when I see her standing in front of the mirror staring blankly at her reflection.

"B'Elanna?" I ask cautiously. I'm still in bed, having worked gamma shift and B'Elanna, as fate would have it, drew alpha. She turns to look at me, almost confused by my presence in her quarters. For a terrifying second, I wonder if she’s blanked on who I am, why I’m there, who _we_ are together. But then her expression relaxes, and she smiles at me.

"Good morning, Tom," she says. She covers the distance between us quickly and leans down to kiss my cheek. I pull her close, nearly bringing her down in my lap. The material of her uniform scratches against my bare chest, but I don't care. I press my lips against her neck, breathing in the scent that is uniquely B'Elanna. She is quiet today, not furious and fast in her actions.

"What time is it?" I ask, my voice still hoarse from sleep.

"0700."

"Early," I say. I fall back onto the bed, bringing her with me. She lies on top of me for a moment before rolling over, her hair now in disarray. I grab her hand. "You've got another hour until your shift starts, so why rush out? What's the point of being the boss if you can't be late occasionally?"

Those wide red lips turn up in a delicious smile.

"I like the way your mind works," she says. "But I've got a busy day ahead of me."

"Hmmm... how about lunch?"

"Lunch sounds nice." She gets off the bed. "I'll see you then." She pauses in front of the mirror again, staring at her mussed hair. "Tom..."

Her voice trails off and I restrain myself from asking the forbidden question. I slip off the covers and swing my legs over the side of the bed.

"What is it?" I ask, keeping my voice carefully even.

"Where did I put that brush again?" she says. Then realization crosses her face, much to my relief, and she locates the object on her dresser, tucked behind the vase of flowers. "I wonder how that got there. Probably, someone distracted me..." she says with a little laugh.

"That must be it," I tell her. I kiss her on the lips and hold her lightly around the waist for a few seconds before releasing her. "Lunch then?"

"Of course."

She flutters her fingers at me and disappears out the door. I look at the hairbrush; it's plain, silver -- more functional than ornamental. My fingers curve around the handle as the brush blurs. I want to believe B'Elanna's forgetfulness is nothing more than a symptom of stress and overwork, that her experience with the Mari has not permanently scarred her brilliant mind. The cynic in me, always my best friend, believes the truth lies somewhere in between.

I step into the sonic shower, the pulse massaging the tension out of my body. As I finish zipping my jacket, the door chimes. I frown as I attach the pips to my collar, evaluate my appearance quickly in the mirror, and decide I'm presentable.

"Come!" I call as I notice the bed is still unmade, B'Elanna's violet nightgown still on the pillow. I grab the nightgown and throw it into the recycler, just as the doors slide open to reveal Chakotay. "Commander." 

To say Chakotay and I aren't close would be an understatement of gigantic proportions. Too much history lies between us, too many things said, and more than enough words left unsaid. Over the last four years, we've managed to maintain a professional relationship, one that requires very little in terms of emotional disclosure, an arrangement that satisfies both of us.

"Good morning, Tom," Chakotay says. He glances past me into the quarters and I’m acutely aware of the unmade bed, and my clothes pooled at the footboard. "Can I come in?"

I step aside. "Um, sure.” I glance towards the replicator, wondering if I should expend precious rations on the first officer. After all, he _does_ make the schedule and sometimes I think he arranges the duty roster so B'Elanna and I barely see each other. _Never miss an opportunity to influence a superior officer_, a lesson taught well by my father. “Coffee?”

“No, thanks,” he says. “I don’t want to take too much of your time.” He pauses. "I wanted to talk about B'Elanna." The last thing I expected before coffee and breakfast was a heart-to-heart with Chakotay. To be fair, a conversation with me is not necessarily the way he wanted to begin his morning either.

I swallow hard, gesture towards the sofa and ask him to take a seat. I remain standing though, shifting from foot to foot.

"Relax, Lieutenant." The faintest of smiles crosses Chakotay’s face as he nods towards the armchair. I take the hint. "I stopped by Engineering to see B’Elanna, see how her recovery is going. It's been, what, three days?"

"About that,” I answer guardedly.

"The Doctor tells me she’s doing well," Chakotay says. He looks at me closely. "She appeared annoyed when I asked."

I laugh, almost sardonically. Dear God, after all this time, doesn't this man know anything at all about B'Elanna Torres? Or does he really have such poor ability to decipher others? "That was your first mistake. Don't ask B'Elanna. She's always going to tell you she is fine."

"I realize that. Which is why I'm asking you. I thought you might be able to give me an accurate idea of how she is doing, in your expert medical opinion, of course."

I have my script well-rehearsed. "The Doctor says the Mari’s treatment was minimally invasive and the procedure to reverse the engrammatic purge went well. There shouldn't be any lasting effects and he expects B’Elanna to physically recover within the week.” I compose my features to appear neutral. “If you really want an expert opinion, you should talk to the Doctor."

"I want to talk to _you_." Chakotay shifts his position in the chair. "You spend more time with B'Elanna than anyone else. From the Doctor, I get medical files and lengthy explanations regarding the advancements he's made in engrammatic reversals. He won’t give me a timeline, just vague commentary that trauma recovery isn’t easy and unpredictable. I figured you'd cut to the chase and give me the bottom line."

"The Doctor is the one who certified B’Elanna fit for duty." I know I sound insolent, but I can't help it. Somehow, Chakotay has a knack for putting me into a bad mood. Funny how years of serving together can't remove the underlying tension between the two of us.

"But you disagree, don’t you?" Chakotay leans forward. Damn, I hate it when he has that look, the one which says he knows exactly what you're thinking; during our first year on _Voyager_, whenever I saw that particular expression cross Chakotay's face, I knew a reprimand, at the very least, lay in my immediate future. In fact, those were the times when I thought Chakotay was just looking for something to nail me on.

Even now, I'm not always entirely sure his motives are good. When it comes to my relationship with B'Elanna, I get the vaguest sense that Chakotay doesn't approve. I don't know if he thinks I'm going to pull a caveman stunt and drag B'Elanna off by the hair, but I do know he doesn't view me as someone who is serious about my intentions towards his friend. 

"Tom?" Chakotay asks in a sharp tone.

"It's not my place to contradict the Doctor," I laugh hesitantly. "I'm just a field medic, remember?"

"I imagine undergoing an engrammatic purge isn't something you recover from overnight. Perhaps, we should remove her from active duty --"

"She'd break your arm for even suggesting that."

"I know," Chakotay says evenly. "Level with me, Tom. Do you think what the Mari did to B'Elanna has left permanent damage?"

I inhale sharply and shift my position in the armchair. Truth be told, I very much enjoy being alive and I know the answer to this question can put my life at jeopardy if B'Elanna ever finds out. I have no intention of wearing a bat'leth on my forehead for the rest of my life.

"Not permanent, no. But,” I take a deep breath, “you’re right. She needs time to process what happened to her and for her neural engrams to rebuild," I say very carefully. “She was arrested, prosecuted, charged with a crime, subjected to a medical procedure against her will—"

"How much _time_?" Chakotay’s voice has an edge to it. “Three days? More than that?”

The question frustrates me. "Who knows how far along the procedure was before Tuvok discovered what really happened?" I feel heat rise in my face. It takes all my restraint to not point out that if only he’d supported my plan to yank B'Elanna out of Mari prison before they’d begun the process of purging her ‘violent’ thought in the first place, we wouldn't be having this conversation in the second place. "And she went right back to work. Of course, she's a little disorientated, but I agree with the Doctor. With enough time, she's going to be fine."

"Are you saying that because she is or because _you_ want to believe that?" Chakotay asks. He gets to his feet. "I need honesty, Lieutenant. I care about B'Elanna-"

I bristle at his tone which implies I could give a flying fig about B'Elanna's wellbeing. And it makes me angry because he should know, after all this time, that my relationship with B'Elanna is more than lust, more than like. In fact, I'm somewhere in the middle of a four-letter word that terrifies the hell out of me. Sometimes I think I'm wearing my heart on my sleeve for everyone to see but apparently, Chakotay, obtuse as he can be, hasn't gotten the hint.

"I'm not lying to you," I cut him off. "All of the medical scans indicate she’s fine.”

Chakotay's expression does not change but narrows his eyes as he scrutinizes me. I refuse to wilt and lift my chin defiantly.

"All right," he says finally. "But you will tell me if something changes?"

"Of course," I say.

After Chakotay leaves, I stand in the middle of my quarters, my eyes on the still rumpled bed. While the Mari held B'Elanna, I’d been unable to sleep. Instead, I had conspired with Harry, late into the night, over various plans to break her out. We’d even run a simulation or two in the holodeck, but before I could take the proposed plan to Chakotay, Tuvok had already figured out the violent thought industry -- if you can call it that -- and the Mari set B'Elanna free.

I make the bed quickly, pulling the sheets tight and tucking in the corners in Starfleet regulation, a habit reaching all the way back to my Academy days. Some things, I muse, you never forget. As I pull the blue comforter across the bed, my eyes fall on the box I brought back from the Mari planet, the gift I had yet to give to B'Elanna.

I’d found the item while B’Elanna had been bartering for parts in the main market square. While meandering along one of the side alleys, I’d seen it in a store window and it immediately struck me that I had yet to give B'Elanna a present of any consequence. It had been a completely impulsive purchase, one rooted deeply in fantasy, if I was completely honest with myself. Whether she would still want the romance the gift promised was now open for debate.

I pick up the box and put it on the bed, running my fingers over the silvery white wrapping paper. I make my first decision of the day; I'll give it to her tonight and it's possible she'll throw it back in my face, but it's also possible she'll love it for what it promises.

I sincerely hope for the latter.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry’s already seated at a table in the center of the Mess Hall when I arrive, making short work of pancakes and bacon. I slide into the chair directly in front of him.

"Hey," Harry mumbles at me as he skewers a piece of pancake with his fork. Being Harry, he cuts each piece delicately and with perfect edges; no wonder Starfleet saw promise in this kid.

"Hey," I respond. I contemplate my own plate: eggs and toast. I immediately regret wasting precious replicator rations on such a mundane selection. "Sorry I’m late. Commander Chakotay decided to pay me a visit."

"What did you do _now_?" Harry glances up at me, his tone halfway between reproachful and teasing. Harry knows just as well as I do that Chakotay never visits unless I've done something wrong.

"Nothing. Not this time," I tell him. "He wanted to talk about B'Elanna. He's afraid the Doctor may have not reversed the engrammatic purge completely."

"Hmmm." Harry puts down his fork. "What did you say?"

I shrug. "What could I say?"

"She's not herself, Tom."

I grit my teeth momentarily and then relax my jaw. _Tread lightly, Paris. _"It’s not realistic to expect anyone to be one hundred percent after undergoing a trauma like that? Good God, a partial lobotomy is not something you can just get up and walk away from."

"No, but we owe it to her to be honest about what happened to her,” Harry says pointedly.

"You think I’m not being honest?” So that’s now two people before breakfast who think I’m lying. Maybe Caldik Prime Tom isn’t as quite the distant memory I thought he was.

“I didn’t say _that_, Tom,” Harry says. He lowers his voice. “She’s my friend and I’m worried.”

“Don’t,” I say quietly. "B'Elanna's still trying to sort out what happened on the Mari homeworld and she’s going to be fine; we just have to give her some breathing room."

"She's not the only one."

"What are you talking about?"

Harry glances over his shoulder and lowers his voice.

"Have you spoken to Neelix lately?" he asks softly. I glance at Neelix, who is standing by the windows. I can almost see his glassy-eyed expression, the one he's been wearing since our sojourn on the Mari homeworld. "I'm worried about him."

"No, I haven’t," I say and I'm immediately ashamed. I've been so wrapped up in B'Elanna, it never occurred to me Neelix might be handling the aftermath of Tali's murder. "Have you?"

"A little. He's quiet, sad, not like the Neelix we know," Harry says. "I tried to talk to him earlier but—” he shrugs “--maybe you’d have better luck. I think he could use a friend right now." Harry’s gaze is piercing. “He trusts you.”

"Me?" I hold up a hand. "You've got to be kidding. What would I say to him anyway?"

Harry shrugged. "You don't have to talk to him about anything in particular, just _talk_ to him."

"Maybe he doesn't feel like talking." I for one know how that feels; in the first few days after Caldik Prime, everyone kept asking me if I wanted to talk about what happened. Eventually the answers got me court martialed. Harry narrows his eyes at me; the kid can act real intimidating on occasion when he wants to. Frankly, I'm impressed.

"Tom," Harry says patiently, as if I'm a small child. "Neelix has been a friend to you on more than one occasion, and for reasons much more trivial than the death of someone he cared about. I imagine you can find something, _anything_, to talk about if you tried."

I sigh. It's not that I don't know what to say, but frankly, when I'm in trouble, I turn to _Neelix_. Somehow, he always finds the right words for every situation, whereas when the going gets tough, I prefer a bit of levity to take the edge off. But Harry’s looking at me now, his expression a mix of concern, impatience and irritation.

"You’re right," I say finally, putting my fork down. “I’ll give it a shot.”

Harry nods. "Thanks. Let me know how it goes." He pushes his chair back and picks up his dishes. "I've got to get to Astrometrics. Seven of Nine is going to let me play with her long-range scanners." He winks.

I laugh. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Ensign."

He scowls at me and departs at an amazingly brisk pace. I have no appetite for my breakfast and instead join Neelix at the window. He doesn’t look at me and I realize my presence doesn’t even register with him.

"Good morning," I say.

Neelix barely reacts. "Good morning."

"Anything particular catch your eye?" I asked.

"There are some lovely star constellations," Neelix says distractedly.

"Star constellations, right."

"You're not interested?"

"Sorry," I say. "Don't mean to sound so jaded, but they’re just star constellations, Neelix. We see them in every system we enter. You’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all."

Neelix sighs, a heavy one that shakes his entire body. His silence chastises me, and I'm struck with a sudden wave of guilt. I reach over and squeeze Neelix's shoulder gently.

"I'm sorry about Tali," I tell him. "She must have been very special to you."

"Thanks, Tom," Neelix says. His expression remains pensive. "She was... an extraordinary person. That must sound ridiculous to you, I imagine, given that I hardly knew her."

"No, not at all. You were obviously struck by her," I tell him. I remember Neelix in the transporter room, dosed with cologne, his eyes sparkling in a way I hadn't seen since Kes ended their relationship.

"Yes," Neelix says. "How's B'Elanna?"

"She's all right," I say.

Neelix gives me a sideways glance.

"Some wounds," he says, "cannot be seen."

I sigh. This time it's my turn to reflect on things we can’t change.

"I know," I tell him. I squeeze his shoulder again. "You're a good friend, Neelix. And I am sorry about Tali."

*****

I hear B'Elanna before I see her.

Her voice carries from Engineering out into the corridor and I wonder at the unlucky individual who incurred B'Elanna's wrath so early in the shift. As I peek around the corner, I see B'Elanna verbally lashing out at the one person who refuses to be cowed by my darling's spectacular temper. I smile to myself as I watch B'Elanna shower Seven of Nine with a variety of Klingon epitaphs as well as a few others in languages I had no idea B'Elanna knew.

The other engineers scurry clear of B'Elanna and Seven and Joe Carey raises an eyebrow at me as I pass by him.

"She's on the warpath," he says in a soft voice. "Be careful."

I grin at him cheekily. "I'm up for the challenge."

Joe sighs deeply, and turns back to his work, probably in fear B'Elanna will find him lax and break his nose again.

As I approach B'Elanna, Seven of Nine walks away, her head held high and obviously not at all disturbed by my sweetheart's rage.

"Hey," I said, coming up behind B'Elanna, laying my hand on her shoulder. "Rough morning?"

She jerks at my touch. "What are you doing here?" she asks, turning around. I hold my arms out, hoping for a hug, but B'Elanna crosses her arms against her chest. I get the hint.

"I thought I'd come visit my favorite chief engineer and check helm status before reporting for duty."

"I'm the _only_ chief engineer on _Voyager_," she tells me. "Don't forget that."

"As if I could," I say. I glance in Seven of Nine's direction; the former Borg drone is intent on the warp diagnostic array. "Did someone say differently?"

"You might say so. She --" B'Elanna jabs a finger in Seven's direction -- "called my system diagnostics into question and referred to the protocol system as 'archaic' and 'inefficient.' She’s constantly going behind my back and changing the systems around; I won’t allow _Voyager_ to be turned into a mini Borg collective."

"I don't think Seven is trying to do that, B'Elanna. She just wants to contribute."

"Don't tell me you're on her side too!"

"Hey! That's not what I said. I was offering you a possible explanation," I say. I back away a few steps. "It's not about taking sides. I'm suggesting Seven could be a real asset here if you let her be."

"I can do this job, Tom," B'Elanna says in a low but fierce voice. She looks around suspiciously. "I know what people are saying but there is nothing wrong with me. _Nothing_."

"No one is saying there is."

"The Doctor said my latest scans show neural regeneration is occurring at the expected pace, and I _feel_ fine. So _what _if I’m a little bit distracted--" she pauses, the color bright in her cheeks. She puts a hand to her forehead and reaches out to me with the other hand. "Tom, I'm sorry. I don't want to start a fight with you."

And even though we're in Engineering, even though everyone can see us, I pull her into an embrace, pressing my lips against her hairline. To my relief, she doesn’t resist.

"Apology accepted," I tell her. "Don't worry."

"I haven't felt this out of control since the Academy." Her lower lip quivers and I sense she’s looking over my shoulder at Seven. "I _can_ do this, Tom."

"You just need some rest. You've been going non-stop since you've come back. And--" I caress her face with my hands, my thumb gently stroking her skin -- "I'd like to change that. So, dinner and dancing tonight in the holodeck.” I pause, thinking about the still-wrapped box in my quarters. “And, um, I have, um, something for you.”

She puts her hand over mine, holding it in place against her face.

"That sounds nice," she says, and she smiles the smile that gets me every time: slow, contemplative, and radiant - from the initial turn-up of her lips to the point where it finally reaches her eyes. I lean down to kiss her.

"2100 hours," I tell her. "I'll come by your quarters then."

She’s still smiling when I leave.

******

When I arrive to pick B'Elanna up for dinner, I know instinctively, tonight isn't going to go as planned. She’s sitting on the sofa, still in her uniform, knees drawn up to her chest, her favorite light blue blanket draped over her lap. I have the sinking feeling our date isn’t going to happen tonight. Carefully, I sit opposite her.

"What’s the matter?" I ask. She sniffles a little, a sign of emotion that both startles and frightens me. "Are you sick?"

"No," she says.

"Something’s bothering you.”

"I've been thinking," she says. She glances beyond me towards the bed; I twist around and see the package I left there earlier in the evening with a note to open it for our date. It's still unwrapped. I swallow hard.

"Yes?" I ask.

"You know how you can go years without ever thinking about a person or an event? Then suddenly, out of nowhere, you do. It's like you can't think of anything else. You have this memory and it won't go away."

I tense. "What are you thinking about?"

"I had a friend when I was six years old. His name was Jamie. Jamie Ryder." B'Elanna smiles and shakes her head. "We used to play in puddles together, jumping through them and seeing who could make the biggest splashes. When it rained, we would be out there together, trying to catch raindrops on our tongues. We were best friends."

I settle back into curve of the sofa, careful not to touch B'Elanna. In her most introspective moments, the ones where she's dwelling on the train wreck of her childhood, she pulls away from me as well as the emotional aspects of her memories. I understand this well; sometimes disassociation and clarity of thought are the only things that make certain events bearable.

"One day, he didn't come out to play," B'Elanna says. She inhales deeply. "In fact, he never came again. I found later that his parents had taken him to a doctor on Nueva Prime, one who specialized in genetic enhancements."

"B'Elanna-" I say in horror, already anticipating where this conversation is going. Genetic enhancements have long been frowned upon in the Federation and are, in fact, illegal. Doesn't mean they don't happen - the black market is out there for parents who, for whatever reason, are unhappy with the way their children turned out.

"Something went wrong," B'Elanna went on, as if I'd never spoken. "He was... damaged."

I blink at the inflection in B'Elanna's voice.

"Last I heard, he was an assisted living complex on Nueva," B'Elanna says. "He can't function for himself and only has the most rudimentary of language skills. I always meant to visit him, but I never could bring myself to and then, we ended up in the Delta Quadrant-" she waves her arm in a circular motion. "I wonder how aware he is.” Her voice cracks slightly. “Does he remember who he was at all?"

"B'Elanna." This time I don't hesitate. I pull her into my arms, holding her closely.

"Tom, I couldn't remember simple things today. It was so hard to _focus_," she says. "I misplaced a hypospanner and then Carey had to remind me on how to re-modulate the plasma field arrays. I remember staring at a variance indicator and not knowing what to make of the information; Seven of Nine interpreted it for me and I, I couldn't help myself."

"Is that when you yelled at her this morning?" I ask. B'Elanna closes her eyes, presses her lips together into a straight line, and nods.

"I didn't know how else to feel," she says. "Anger is the _only_ thing. I don't know what the Mari have done to me, how long it's going to take me to get back- Tom, what if I _never_ get back what they took from me?"

"That's not going to happen," I tell her firmly. She curls up against me, resting her head against my chest. I stroke her hair lightly. She shudders against me and so I pull her tighter, hoping against hope, that I'm right.


	3. Chapter 3

She wakes screaming, her face coated in a light sheen of perspiration, her chest heaving with erratic breaths. She flails, pushing my arms away from her, and twisting violently among the covers. 

"They're coming for me," B’Elanna says in breathless bursts. "They're going to take everything I know, everything I am."

"No, no," I say. I hold her close; the satin strap of her nightgown slips down her shoulder and I pull it up gently. 

B’Elanna leaps out of bed, stalking across the room, checking the corners. She grabs at her wrists, plucking at them frantically. 

“Get them off of me,” she says, her voice growing in pitch as she presses up against the wall. She holds her hands out towards me. I stare at her in confusion.

“There is nothing on you!” I swing my legs over the side of the bed. “B’Elanna—”

“Get them off!” 

I realize instantly what she’s talking about. The handcuffs the Mari put on her. I close the distance between us in three strides. She is shaking as I carefully hold her hands in mine, turning her palms gently upward. “There is nothing. You are free.”

"No, you’re lying. They're here," she says, her eyes darting back and forth. "I know they are. They want to erase me."

She doesn't have to explain whom she means; I know who the bogeymen are this time around. 

"Listen to me, B'Elanna," I say. "There's no one else here. You're safe. I'm here."

She stares at me in wild-eyed terror.

"Who are you?" she asks.

***** 

I roll over in bed. I can hear running water in the bathroom and wearily, I stretch my hand out to touch the warm spot on B'Elanna's side of the bed. Her pillow still smells of her shampoo - something light and floral. After a few minutes, the shower turns off and B'Elanna emerges, wrapped in her robe. She smiles at me pleasantly.

"Good morning," she says.

"Good morning to you," I answer lazily. I stretch out, feeling my muscles relax. To say it had been a rough night would be an understatement and finally, I'd given B'Elanna a sedative to calm her down so she could sleep. "You look much better."

B'Elanna nods as she rummages through her closet looking for her uniform. "I feel better." 

“Good,” I said. My gaze once again falls on the gift box and then back to B’Elanna. "If you're feeling up to it, how about that dinner we talked about?"

B'Elanna grabs her uniform. "I have a level five diagnostic scheduled for today, and it could run into beta shift."

I arch an eyebrow. "You could ask Joe to monitor it.”

"A level five diagnostic is my responsibility." She goes back into the bathroom and emerges a few minutes later dressed in her uniform, her hair tamed and shiny as it bounces just above her shoulders. "Aren’t you supposed to work a shift in Sickbay today?"

"No, not today, thankfully." I take a deep breath. "I could keep you company in Engineering, bring you dinner if you’d like." I waggle my eyebrows at her. “Dinner under the light of the warp core. What do you think?”

"That doesn’t sound like much fun for you," she says. 

"B'Elanna." I swing my legs over the side of the bed. Now or never, Paris. "About last night..."

The bright, brilliant smile vanishes, and her eyes grow distant and hazy again. Damn, I hate that look. It means she's either pulling away from me on purpose or she's falling into that fugue state again where she can't remember her left from her right.

"I know you’re concerned," she says. "But it was nothing-"

"You didn't remember who you were, who I was-"

"It was a night terror, Tom," she says. She lays stress on my name as if to drive home the point that yes, in the light of day - so to speak - she does know who I am. "I got them all the time when I was a kid."

"It would make me feel better if you stopped by Sickbay." I'm on my feet now and grab her elbow. "Indulge me." I brush my lips against her forehead ridges. "Please."

"If I have time. You know I'm busy."

"Yeah, I know." I shake my head and release her from my grip. "Make time. If not for me, for you."

B'Elanna's expression softens and she cups my jaw with her hand lightly. Her touch is soft and delicate. 

"Sometimes," she says, "you can be a real pain in the ass."

With that, she turns on her heel and leaves. I close my eyes. It occurs to me that maybe, just maybe, enough is enough.

*****

The Doctor is singing something in Italian that requires many hand gestures. He is so caught up in the sound of his own voice that he doesn't even notice when I enter. 

"Doc!" I say urgently. He turns, almost embarrassed to see me.

"Ah, Mr. Paris," he says, the color rising in his holographic cheeks. "I didn't hear you come in."

"Sorry," I say. "Didn't mean to interrupt but I wanted to talk to you about B'Elanna."

"Is something wrong? I just saw her this morning."

I blink back my surprise. I didn’t honestly think -- believe -- that B'Elanna would be true to her word and stop by Sickbay.

"She did?" I ask.

"Yes." The Doctor beams as he rearranges some of his supplies on a cart. "My vocal sub processors were flat, so she came to readjust the modulation. It's wonderful to be able to sing perfectly in key again."

"She didn't say anything at all about how she was doing?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No, she appeared fine, tired, but doing well."

"She didn't sleep last night," I say. "She was up half the night wearing a path in the carpet."

"There's nothing wrong with over-exhaustion and stress. I estimate half the crew suffers from it on a regular basis." The Doctor shakes his head. "I've talked to Commander Chakotay many times about the way he schedules the shifts, but does he listen? No, he continues-"

"It's not just exhaustion," I interrupt. "Look, she's not herself. I know you said it would take time, but honestly, she's not getting better. She can't remember little things. Hell, last night she didn't even recognize me."

The Doctor tilts his head to the side, his expression contemplative. "Explain the circumstances.”

So I do, briefing him on the details of B’Elanna’s night terror, and as I speak, I witness the Doctor visibly relaxing. 

“Night terrors are a perfectly normal reaction to the trauma she’s experienced, not to mention in her typical way, Lieutenant Torres ignored my advice to take it easy for a few days after I reversed the purge,” the Doctor says. “What you describe is not out of the ordinary given what has happened. It’s her mind’s way of trying to work through the trauma that was done to her.”

"Look, I might be a mere medic, but I know the signs of neural injury," I say earnestly. "She's not getting better. In fact, I think she might be getting worse."

"What?" the Doctor pulls up B'Elanna's medical files and shows me her most recent neural scans from two days ago, comparing them to the scans taken before we ever encountered the Mari, and then directly afterwards. "The behavior you claim she's exhibiting is not consistent with what the scans show, Lieutenant."

"I'm telling you, Doc," I say, "last night wasn’t normal and it wasn't because of exhaustion. I think you need to examine her again."

The Doctor paces the length of Sickbay, looking bewildered. He occasionally glances back at the scans on his console, as if trying to reconcile reality with theory. 

"I’d prefer not to have to order her to come in. Maybe you can talk her into it." The Doctor looks uncertain as he speaks; he knows as well as I do that getting B'Elanna to come within a light-year of Sickbay is a task of Herculean proportions. In the past, I've been able to coax her to come in, but given her mercurial personality these days, who knows? 

"I'll give it a shot," I say. "We have a senior staff meeting this afternoon and I’ll talk to her after that.”

The Doctor shakes his head. "I don't understand. When I saw Lieutenant Torres this morning, all indications were that she was well on the road to recovery."

"Like I said, Doc, I'll give it my best shot. But it would really help me out if you would just order her to Sickbay." I'm already heading out the door; I'm late for my shift and I know Chakotay will have a thing or two or three to say about that. I swear, the man never misses an opportunity to reprimand me. 

Or maybe I'm just paranoid.

On days like this, I'm never quite sure.

*****

As it turns out, there’s no chance to talk to B'Elanna before our senior staff meeting as I had hoped. She slinks in just seconds before Janeway opens the meeting. 

"Tom," B’Elanna mumbles as she slips into the chair next to me. For a moment, my heart leaps into my throat. It occurs to me that maybe I went to the Doctor in haste, that there really isn't anything wrong with B'Elanna at all. Without thinking, I weave my fingers with hers. Her skin is cold, clammy to the touch, and after a second, she pulls her hand away as the Captain begins to speak.

Janeway is sitting in her customary spot at the head of the table, leaning forward, her fingers clasped together. Apparently, there's a nebula in our future, quite a large one, and the scientific possibilities are endless and worth yet another detour on our way home. After all, the Captain reminds us, we're first and foremost explorers and who knows when we'll see another nebula of this magnitude again?

I figure the odds of seeing another nebula like this one are in our favor; after all, we’re forty thousand light years, plus or minus, away from the Alpha Quadrant, and each one of those blasted light years probably has a nebula characterized with unusual phenomena to call its own.

"Any takers?" Janeway asks and I realize she's not merely suggesting sending a probe into the nebula, but an away team. I glance at B'Elanna, who seems curiously detached.

"We will need to modify a shuttle to withstand the stresses of the gaseous atmosphere within the nebula," Seven comments.

"We can amplify the shield resonance frequency," Harry suggests. He looks over at B'Elanna. "I think with a bit of fiddling, we can counteract the stress the ionic particle field is sure to inflict. What do you think, B'Elanna?"

"Sounds good," she says without much heat and still with that distant look in her eye.

"Get started on those modifications," Janeway orders. "Tom, given the turbulence caused by the cross-currents, we'll need our best pilot out there."

"Aye, Captain," I say. Janeway glances at me sharply; I know she caught me drifting and guilt is something I do exceptionally well. Her lips turn up and I know I'm forgiven. I grin back cheekily and follow Harry and Seven out into the corridor.

"The modifications will require a minimum three hours," Seven says, "and that is only if we work at maximum efficiency." Her expression clearly says that she doubts we'll meet her expectations.

Harry gives me a smile, one that demonstrates the depths of his patience. I shrug as he and Seven head down to the shuttle bay.

B'Elanna comes out of the conference room and I grab her by the arm.

"Hey," I say. "How are you?"

"Busy," she says, glancing over her shoulder – everywhere but at me. "What’s the point of wasting everyone’s time over a nebula?"

"Good afternoon to you too," I tell her. "I missed you at lunch."

"Wasn't hungry."

Even though all klaxons are screaming red alert at me, I press on. “What about dinner?”

"Sorry.” Her tone is nothing less than exasperated. “I told you. I'm running a full diagnostic in Engineering today. You know that requires my full attention."

I lean in ever so slightly. "What's the point of being a chief engineer if you can't take some time off?" 

"Tom," she says in exasperation. "You might take your duties lightly-"

"Hey!" I hold up a hand. "Look, you seemed distracted in the meeting and I wanted to know what was wrong. That's all. I didn't mean to imply you take your duties lightly. I just thought we could spend a few minutes together. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing's wrong. Stop hovering." She starts walking, quick enough that I nearly have to sprint to catch up.

"You didn't even seem interested in the shuttle modifications."

"It's an easy enough problem, Tom. A first year at the Academy could do it. You could do it."

I pause, almost stunned by the note of condescension in her voice.

"That’s not fair," I tell her.

"Look, I've got things to do-"

"Yeah, I get the hint. You're busy and I'm irresponsible," I cut her off. "Go run your diagnostic, okay? Do whatever. Just -" I pause her because I no longer know how to continue. I swallow hard. I wonder if this is going to be it, if this is going to be the moment after months of whirlwind where B'Elanna and I finally fall apart. And I hate the way this thought makes me feel; it's not just the idea of another failed relationship, but rather the knowledge that I’m not strong enough to get through this one too. 

If you let go now, Tom, you can't ever go back.

So I do the only thing I can do: let my touch speak when words can’t, won’t. 

I cup her jaw in my hand and pull her close, our lips mere centimeters apart. For a moment, she looks startled, maybe even frightened, but she leans closer first. Her eyes close the way they always do when we kiss, and for a single moment, only the two of us exist here in the corridors of Voyager. 

"I am sorry," I whisper. "I didn't mean it." I hope she understands my sudden burst of temper but B'Elanna's eyes remain distant as she pulls away.

"I've got to go," she mumbles. "Engineering." 

I lick my lips, understanding so clearly how Engineering means so much more to her than I do. Or perhaps, I'm simply going through a self-flagellation phase, but either way, her brush off hurts.

"I understand," I say to her retreating back.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry and Seven are completely absorbed in the shuttle modifications. Neither notices my arrival as I slip in behind them. For a moment, I admire their synchrony, the unique working partnership they have established.

"What can I help with?" I ask. Harry glances up, a lock of black hair flopping down across his forehead. His skin flushes pink. Seven, on the other hand, looks calm and collected, barely breaking a sweat.

"You could recalibrate the EPS sensor grid," Harry says. "Here are the specifications. Seven found a way to align the grid with the main sensor relays. That way, we can regulate the EPS flow without drawing excess energy from the engines and use the grid at the same time."

I let out a low whistle as I look at the PADD. Seven’s calculations are exhaustive, producing figures methodically derived from intricate equations. I don't necessarily understand every step, but I know she’s overlooked nothing.

"You do good work, Seven," I tell her. "If this works, we can permanently add this to the shuttle protocols."

"I have to approve it first."

We all whirl around to face B'Elanna, who is standing with her arms akimbo. She looks angry and damn, I know that look. Someone is going to wear his tongue as a belt and it’s not going to be Harry. Both Harry and Seven back away just a bit.

"It was just a thought," I say weakly. And then I offer her the biggest smile I possibly can, the one that _generally_ can melt away any of her bad moods. B'Elanna barely glances at me as she snatches the PADD from me. "I thought you were running a diagnostic in Engineering."

"I thought I would check on the progress here," she says. She tosses the PADD back at me and I grab it with the tips of my fingers. "The way the wiring is set up on that schematic, it's a fire risk. It only takes one spark to set off a chain reaction. I wouldn't advise making these modifications."

"You barely looked at it," I point out. B'Elanna tosses me a withering look.

"I'm an engineer," she says. "I know what I see. This-" she jabs her thumb towards the PADD - "this is dangerous."

"I have run simulations on the holodeck. The wiring is safe," Seven counters. Harry's eyes widen as B'Elanna takes a step closer to the former Borg drone. "In fact, it reduces energy consumption by point zero three percent."

"Why didn't you check with me first?" B'Elanna asks, her voice very calm, but I get the feeling she's on the verge of wrapping her hands around Seven's throat.

"You did not seem interested-"

"I’m always interested. I'm the chief engineer on this ship-"

I catch B'Elanna's arm. "No one is forgetting that, B'Elanna, believe me."

She whirls around to face me, color rising in her cheeks. "So you're going along with it too?"

"I don't see the problem," I tell her.

"_You're_ not an engineer."

"No, but I know how an EPS sensor grid on a shuttle works and Seven’s modifications are perfectly fine, B'Elanna."

She glares at me, her eyes narrowing, her lips parting slightly to reveal those sharp teeth that so often puncture my skin in bouts of fierce lovemaking. For a moment, her lower lip trembles and then she recovers her composure.

"If you say so," she says, but her voice is shaky. Seven nods.

"I would not take unnecessary risks, Lieutenant."

"Then, go ahead." B'Elanna waves a hand and then turns to walk out the door. I consider going after her but recalling B'Elanna's admonishment to me to "stop hovering," I turn back to Harry and Seven.

"Shall we get going on this?" I ask.

"What was that all about?" Harry asks as the door closes behind B'Elanna. "It's not like B'Elanna to get so uptight about slight modifications to the shuttle."

"You know how she is, protective of anything that comes under the sphere of Engineering," I say. I choose a phase link coupler from the toolbox. "Though lately, she has been uncommonly fond of reminding me that I'm just the pilot, that she knows the nuts and bolts of _Voyager_ better than anyone else on this ship."

"Is she well?" Seven asks cautiously. I sigh. Damn. Now I'm really going to die. In fact, I ought to turn around and just tell Harry to get started on planning my memorial service.

"She _does_ seem unusually angry," Harry says. He pulls out his tricorder to examine the modulating frequency on the EPS array. "She lashes out at every little thing, it seems. Her temper has everyone in Engineering walking on eggshells."

"I'm sorry," I tell Seven and Harry. Truth be told, I don't know what I'm apologizing for, but where B'Elanna's concerned, I have no other options. I can't tell them how B'Elanna woke up last night, confused and utterly terrified. I can't tell them how I wrapped my arms around her while she cried against my shoulder. "It's probably just stress. That's all."

"Well, I hope it passes soon," Harry says grimly. He passes me the tricorder. "Take a look at that variance. It's just outside the acceptable boundaries."

I frown. "Is it because of the rerouted wiring in the EPS array?"

"Negative," Seven says from her console. Her long fingers quickly run over the control pad and then she looks at me. "I'm noting an energy drain from the impulse modulators."

"Damn," I say. I scramble over the seats and head to the back, to lift the floor panels where the modulators are. Harry is at my side and when we open the panels, we see that some of the fuses leading into the modulators have been burned to a crisp. I sigh and sit back on my heels. "Who's going to tell the Captain?"

******

"Get B'Elanna down there," the captain says. She paces the length of her Ready Room, her agitation apparent. "She should have been working on this project already."

"Yes, ma'am," I say. I look at Harry and Seven; none of us want to be the one to drag B'Elanna out of Engineering to fix what she terms an 'easy engineering problem than any first year could take care of,' especially after her latest outburst.

Janeway clearly recognizes our dilemma; she says, "I’ll convey my concerns to her directly."

I hope my sigh of relief isn't audible, but I also know that no matter how angry she is, B'Elanna would never bite off Janeway's head, at least not with the same tongue-licking lip-smacking relish she reserves for me.

"Harry, Seven, dismissed. Tom, if you have a moment?"

After Harry and Seven are gone, Janeway indicates her sofa. "Have a seat, Tom."

"Thanks." I make myself comfortable on the sofa. Janeway leans toward me, her expression making it evident that at this moment in time, I am front and center on Janeway’s radar. In a way, I'm unusually close to my captain – I owe her a debt of gratitude, one that I can never completely repay. If not for her offer, likely I'd still be in prison in New Zealand, deemed by Starfleet to be utterly unredeemable.

“I hope you’re up for this mission,” the Captain says.

“Always.” I hesitate. “Captain, permission to speak freely.”

"Go ahead."

"What _is _out there that's so important?"

Her smile reaches to the edges of her eyes. "Perhaps a way home. I don’t want to get the crew’s hopes up, so I didn’t say anything earlier, but sensors detected an inert gas with some unusual kinetic behavior. It’s not quite the miracle gas that is sirillium, but there are some things that do interest me about it. I've been running simulations of the complex reactions all night. With a slight change to the chemical structure, I think we can add it to the warp drive for a little added punch."

"Have you told B'Elanna?"

Janeway's face takes on a guarded expression. "Well, that’s one of the reasons why I wanted to speak to you privately. When I mentioned it to her earlier after the initial analysis came through, she didn't seem particularly interested. In fact -" Janeway pauses - "I don't think she really grasped what I was talking about." Janeway’s eyes clearly show her concern. “She seemed distracted.”

“She’s got a lot on her mind. She’s been running a level five diagnostic--”

Janeway’s jaw tightens and her eyes narrows. “If there’s something else going on with her—”

“There’s _nothing_ else,” I say, perhaps a bit more sharply. “So this gas you’ve been analyzing—"

The captain’s gaze is direct, focused. "The plan might not work, Tom, but I would like to try it. Our way home could lie in that nebula. A long shot, I know, but one I can’t ignore."

"Yes, ma'am." I take a step towards the door and then look back at the Captain. "I'm going to do my best for you."

"I know you will, Tom," she says quietly. That wistful expression - the one that crosses her face any time 'home' is mentioned - returns. "You all do, and one day, we'll be home again. As I said, I may be grasping at straws here, but we can't let an opportunity like this pass us by."

"I understand."

"And one more thing. I think it would be a good idea if you took Neelix on this mission," Janeway says "He could use the change in scenery."

"What about Harry and Seven? I assumed they would be coming along."

"No, it's a routine mission. You'll be fine with Neelix." The firmness in her tone catches my attention. “The distraction will be good for him.”

I nod. "I agree. He really cared about Tali, even though he only knew her for a short time.” I think back to our brief conversation in the Mess Hall. “It’ll be good to have him along.”

"I’m glad to hear you agree," Janeway says seriously. She leans forward, the ends of her hair brushing lightly against her cheeks. "If we were back in the Alpha Quadrant—” regret crosses her face – “there would be quite a few options for dealing with trauma…”

“I understand,” I say. "Does Neelix know about his new assignment?"

"I've already told him, yes." She gives me the smallest of smiles. “I believe he’s already packing.”

"Good." I rise. "I'll let him know we’ll have to delay the mission. It's going to take time to figure out where the surge is. Hopefully, it's only in the spare power supply that runs the modulators; otherwise, the problem could be anywhere, and we'd practically have to dismantle the shuttle to find it."

Janeway’s already reaching for her coffee as she dismisses me. “Good luck, Lieutenant.”

With that, I head back to the shuttle bay to continue working on the modifications. Whether Janeway orders B'Elanna to the bay, I don't know; my Klingon sweetheart never shows. When I ask the computer where she is, the crisp voice informs me that B'Elanna has taken shelter in EPS conduit 13A. I sigh. Well, I think, she knows where to find us._ If_ she wants to find us.


	5. Chapter 5

Neelix is noticeably subdued as he boards the _Tereshkova_. I let him get comfortable in his seat before I start the pre-launch sequence. Correcting the _Tereshkova’s_ various system issues took Harry, Seven and me a good three hours; we'd worked pretty much in silence, each of us handling our own section of the repairs, though occasionally, my mind would drift. Truth be told, once we had finished the required maintenance, I was itching to get away from _Voyager_.

_Running away again, Tom, aren't you?_

I hear Neelix stumble around the shuttle going through some pre-flight checks and the noise he makes provides a welcome distraction.

"Welcome aboard," I tell him genially as he finally settles down in the seat next to mine.

Neelix offers me a tentative smile; if I didn't know better, I'd think he didn't want to go nebula exploring with me. I'd be insulted, but I'm not that enthusiastic about this mission myself, even though I am aware of Janeway’s endgame. I watch as he buckles himself into his seat and then nods at me.

"Ready for a little trip?" I ask in a tone that sounds more cheerful than I really feel. I try not to think that B'Elanna didn't bother to come to the shuttle bay to see me off. In fact, she had told me in our last conversation just thirty minutes prior to the scheduled departure that she was busy. I hate it - absolutely hate it -- when she uses the word 'busy' because my B'Elanna translomatic turns on, and I know she's avoiding me. And I can’t forget the disdain dripping from her voice when she reminds me my engineering skills aren’t up to part. It occurs to me that perhaps putting some additional space between us is a good idea while she pulls herself together.

"Whenever you are," Neelix says amicably. I glance at him and then continue the pre-flight launch sequence. These are mundane tasks that I have done time and time again and could probably do blindfolded.

"Paris to the Bridge. Ready for departure."

"You're clear to go, Mr. Paris." Janeway's voice is scratchy over the comm. The shuttle bay doors slide open. "See you in a few hours."

"Yes, ma'am. Paris out."

Neelix isn't particularly talkative and after a few failed attempts at conversation, I give up. He is obviously in his own world, one haunted by the vision of Tali, blood spreading in a halo around her golden head.

"The nebula is straight ahead," I say. In response, Neelix turns his attention to the panel in front of him, his fingers flying over the LCARS pad with ease, as if Starfleet systems had always been a part of him.

"Sensors aren’t picking up anything unusual," he says.

"Are you picking up that inert gas the captain is so interested in?"

"In trace concentrations, yes." Neelix glances at me. "You think her idea is going to work?"

"I have no idea," I say. "But some hope is better than none at all." I check the sensor readings just to assure myself that all is well in the nebula. Experience has taught me that nebulas are wild and strange creatures, prone to moodiness and the occasional temper tantrum. "If the captain is right and that nebula has the missing ingredient to get us home, then it'll be worth the trip."

Neelix nodded. "Have you considered what you'll do when you get home?"

I look at him in surprise. "No, frankly, I haven't thought about it. In fact, I was looking forward to spending the next seventy years here in the Delta Quadrant. Appeals to the vagabond in me. And I have no desire to return to New Zealand. Beautiful country, but not much to do but sit around." I frown. “Why do you ask?”

"I've thought about what I would do in the Alpha Quadrant," Neelix says wistfully. "Especially over the last couple weeks."

"Yeah?" I check the directional readings and satisfied with what I see, I turn my full attention to Neelix. "What have you come up with?"

Neelix shrugs. "Just little things, you know."

"Like?"

"You'll laugh at me-"

"Never."

Neelix inhales so deeply his body shudders with the action. I remain quiet as he pulls himself together.

“I haven’t been able to think of anything,” he says, then confesses, “I don’t think of the Alpha Quadrant as home." A note of apology underlines his tone, as if he’s ashamed.

"Why should you?" I ask. "I'm not even sure _I_ consider it home."

"But I would listen to all of you and I'd get excited about the prospects of a new life in a new place. It's exciting to hear you talk about the Alpha Quadrant and I convinced myself that it could be a home for me too."

"But something changed your mind."

Neelix nods. "Yeah."

I start to put the pieces together, but Neelix doesn't let me speak. His next words come in a rush, as if he's afraid he'll back away from what he really wants to say.

"I really liked Tali, Tom," he says earnestly. For a moment, an expression of intense sorrow crosses his face. "She was sweet, kind, and gentle too. And we were hitting it off. Maybe I let myself get too carried away by the fantasy, but I thought about settling on the Mari homeworld with Tali, living the life I should have had with Kes. Until I met Tali, I never thought I could move past what I had with Kes."

"Neelix--"

Neelix raises his hand. "You don't have to say it, Tom. I know, it was a foolish-"

"No, not at all," I tell him. "We all have thoughts like that, when we first meet someone. You consider all of the possibilities and if you care about someone deeply enough, you can even sketch out an entire lifetime with that person."

"Have you done that?" Neelix's question is soft, pensive. "Thought about building a life with someone when you've only just met?"

"Yeah," I say finally. "I have. And it's not wrong, Neelix, to fall for someone you just met. Some people have that effect, you know?" I chuckle. "They walk in one day and nothing ever looks or feels the same again. Falling in--" I pause and change direction. "Somehow, that person becomes your first thought when you wake up, the last thought before you go to sleep. And it's not the quantity of time you know each other, Neelix, but rather the quality of the attraction you feel. So what you felt for Tali and how you reacted to her death, it's understandable."

Times like this, when I wax philosophical, I occasionally terrify myself. B'Elanna says it's because I like to hear the sound of my own voice; I'd like to give myself a little more credit than that, prove to her, prove to everyone else around me that there is indeed depth to Tom Paris, that I can eclipse the womanizing, self-absorbed, wise-cracking persona.

"I didn't realize until I met Tali just how much I--" Neelix stops. I wait. After a moment, he resumes. "It's different without Kes, isn't it? The ship isn't the same without her."

"I imagine she is growing in ways she never thought possible, reaching out for new opportunities," I say carefully.

Neelix nods. "I suppose you're right, but I- I do miss her."

"What you two shared, that was very special," I tell him. "Whatever else, you'll remember that."

Neelix shakes his head wistfully. "I'd like to think Kes felt the same about me as I did for her, but in retrospect, it's hard to tell. I only know my own feelings, but I’m pretty sure that by the time she left _Voyager,_ she thought of me only as her friend, nothing more."

"I don’t know about that."

"I always wondered what someone like Kes would see in me," Neelix says, almost sadly. His tone of voice surprises me. Neelix isn't the type to sink into despondency and it’s clear his short relationship with Tali stirred up emotions and thoughts he had pushed away. "Maybe all she felt for me was a debt of gratitude."

"Kes wasn't like that and you know it. She never did anything half-hearted and more importantly, she cared for you. She didn't believe in manipulating people," I tell Neelix as forcefully as I dare. "I think you can take comfort in the fact that when you were together, your relationship was as real as anything else and just as meaningful to her as it was to you, if not more."

Neelix runs his fingers over the console, adjusting the sensor logs ever so slightly. I recognize the gesture for what it is: a need to do something, no matter how insignificant.

"I miss Kes,” he says softly, and he looks miserable at the confession. And then he shakes his head. “You know, I haven’t said that out loud to anyone.”

"Your secret is safe with me," I tell him. "It's only natural that you still have feelings for Kes. When you truly care about someone, it's impossible to just walk away without some lingering emotions. It would be unnatural if you felt nothing at all."

Neelix sighs, obviously relieved. "On the other hand, I've never been to the Alpha Quadrant." He laughs, a little hesitantly. "I've always enjoyed visiting new places."

Neelix falls into silence as the console beeps a warning at us. I pull up short-range scans.

"Entering the nebula in about thirty seconds," I announce. "Sit tight, Neelix, it might get a little rough."

"Yes, sir," Neelix says, and already he sounds a lot better. "Tom?"

"Yes?" I take my eyes off the viewscreen for just a second to look back at him.

"Thanks," Neelix says.

"Anytime." I flash a smile at him. "I understand."

****

Disasters occur when you least expect them. In fact, they start slowly, sort of like a trickle and you don't notice until the floodgates burst open.

It started with the relays in the EPS modulators, the same ones Harry, Seven and I had replaced prior to our departure. By the time we smelled the smoke, the modulators were already gone.

"Damn," I say under my breath as I crouch over the defective components. "We replaced every single one of these and tested them too."

Neelix hovers just off to the side. "Looks pretty bad, doesn't it?"

"Depends," I say. I gesture towards a small cabinet at the rear of the cabin. "There ought to be a case of spare relays in there." I reach down and yank out the burned fuses, singeing my fingers in the process. I can just imagine B'Elanna's voice in my head reproaching me for not following proper safety protocols. _Damn it_, I think. I hate that I’ve given her another reason to think less of me. Maybe our heady days of infatuation are over, maybe we are indeed too different to stay together. Here in the middle of the nebula in a crippled shuttle, I’m so far from B’Elanna, but it’s still difficult to shift concentration from her problems to mine.

_You're going to have to decide, Tom. Sooner, not later. You know that._

Neelix hands me the spare relays just as I see the hairline crack in the power supply grids leading into the electrical junction box. I sit back on my heels. Neelix looks concerned.

"Well?" he asks.

I point. "We missed this defect earlier. I don't know how, but we did." I sigh. I can almost visualize the sequence of events; my own impatience with the repairs and my frustration with B'Elanna and somewhere along the line, I must have forgotten to run the power supply diagnostic.

"So, what next?"

"Well," I say. I think this through. A crack in the power supply is, technically, not the biggest problem we could have, but on the scale of things, it's damn serious. "This is my fault."

"Don't say that," Neelix says, a note of warning edging into his tone.

"I should have caught it, but I didn’t. I was so distracted that I wasn't thinking clearly. I shouldn't have been the one in charge of the repairs. Damn it."

"Don’t go down the path of self-recrimination." Neelix rests his hand on my shoulder lightly. "Tom, it's not your fault."

I appreciate Neelix's kindness, his understanding, but in truth, times like this, I get into a mood of self-flagellation. Can't help it; masochism and unwarranted feelings of guilt run in the Paris family bloodline. I take a deep breath, knowing that chastising myself will not get out of this situation.

_Calm, Paris, calm. You've been in worst situations. You can deal with this, too._

"We're dead in the water, Neelix, unless I can figure out a way to rewire this system," I say. I shake my head. This isn’t the first time that my personal life has interfered with the performance of my duties, but it is the first time that I actually care about the consequences; I'm not sure I like how off-balance that makes me feel. I sigh. "All right, um, we're going to have to switch to auxiliary power and then take the main power supply offline."

"Right." Neelix nods.

"From there, we'll need to reroute all of the wiring in that section through the auxiliary power source. That should hold it until we get back to _Voyage_r."

"I guess this mission is over?"

I look at Neelix grimly and nod. "Yeah, I think that's a pretty fair situational assessment."


	6. Chapter 6

"What's going on, Tom?" Janeway asks briskly. Her face fills up a good part of the shuttle’s tiny viewscreen.

I give her a quick status update. "On a positive note, the Brussard collectors are still operating within specifications. We’ve been able to gather several liters of that gas you were interested in."

"Glad to hear it," Janeway says, "but I'm more concerned about getting you two out of there."

"Can we tractor them out?" Chakotay asks.

"No," Tuvok says. I frown. Damn Tuvok, always the harbinger of doom and gloom. "I'm detecting some additional volatility within the nebular crosswinds; using the tractor beam will jolt the shuttle to the point of incurring additional damage. Given that the current issues seem to emit from the electrical systems, the use of a tractor beam has the distinct possibility of sparking an explosion."

Janeway turns back to face me, her hands on her hips, and tension etched in the curve of her jaw. “Not to mention the increased ionization Ops detected earlier could interfere with the tractor beam.” Her lips press into a thin line. “I'll have Harry work with B'Elanna to come up with a solution," Janeway says. "Don't worry, Tom, we're going to get you out of there."

The viewscreen goes to black for a second, and then the blue Federation seal appears. I close my eyes briefly, take a deep breath, and consider the possibilities. My immediate response – as always – is to throw a hail Mary pass, make a run for it, hold it together for just enough time to get away. I’ve always been good at running; it’s the patience to stay that consistently eludes me.

I glance back at Neelix who is diligently trying to seal the crack in the power supply. I frown; cracks in power supplies don't just happen.

"Neelix, check the connectors between the power supply and the main generator."

Neelix is on the floor, flashing a light over the smooth metal face of the generators. "Tom..."

"What is it, Neelix?" I'm out of my chair to look. I immediately see the corrosion on the threaded coupling mechanisms appear and the charring on the insulating material. I quickly run through all the possibilities which could cause the cascade of problems I see in front of me – everything from an alignment issue due to excessive vibration to the temperature overload. I sit back on my heels. Every single scenario requires re-engineering the entire system, and I don’t need Tuvok’s rationality to know we don’t have the time it would take me to reconfigure an entire power system.

_This isn’t how my story is supposed to end. _

I look out the shuttle ports at the nebulous gases swirling in shades of purple and pink. Honestly, if it wasn't for our current situation, I'd love it out here. So peaceful, so calm, so far away from the stress of the last few days. And I think, almost selfishly, that maybe it's not such a bad thing that I'm stuck out here. The solitary Tom of the early days in the DQ is long gone; I'm either on the Bridge or with the Doc or with Harry on the holodeck or spending time with B’Elanna.

I realize that Neelix is staring at me. "Tom?"

"Sorry." I blink. "Okay, what do we do?" Now I'm thinking out-loud. I run through the schematics in my head -- red to blue, green to yellow, positive to negative. "All right, um..."

_Think. No matter what B'Elanna says, Tom, you can do this. _

I clear my throat. "All right. Well, I think we have spares of most everything in the supply locker. Let’s dig that out and see what we’ve got."

We haul out the long box with spare parts out and open it. This could be the ultimate exercise in futility, but at least I can say I gave it my best shot. I take a quick inventory; on the upside, everything we need seems to be here. I grin at Neelix and clap him on the back. "We're going to be okay."

*****

Neelix returns to hover over my shoulder.

"What did the captain say?" I ask without looking up.

"Harry and B'Elanna are still brainstorming possible fixes but nothing yet, but B’Elanna thinks what you’re doing is a good start and they want to build off of that." His lower lip twitches, and his eyes dart back and forth. He nods at the open panel. “They need another few minutes to come up with a reliable fix to counteract the vibration when the tractor beam latches on. They’re concerned about possible arcing and ignition if that happens.” He nods at the open panel and the components I’ve carefully replaced. How’s it going?”

"I’ve done all I can here, Neelix," I tell him, patting his heavy brocade sleeve. "But I don’t know how much longer we can wait. I’m detecting low levels of radiation seeping into the cabin.”

“What’s does that mean?”

I set my jaw. “It means vibration or not, we’ve got to get the hell out of here.”

Neelix’s mouth flattens into a straight line. “They need—"

I hold up my hand. “I’ve got this. We're going to be fine." It's bravado talking now, but I figure, that's as good as anything. I'm not as thorough as Harry, B'Elanna or Seven would be and I’m pretty sure I’ve overlooked something crucial, but for the moment I'm damn proud of my handiwork. I sit back on my heels and survey it. "I think that will hold long enough.”

“But Tuvok said—”

I dismiss Tuvok with a wave of my hand. “He was concerned about the tractor beam inflicting _more_ damage on an already stressed system. By replacing the defective components, the shuttle _should_ be able to withstand the journey out of the nebula.” I purposely don’t mention the tractor beam because I know Tuvok is right and I know it’s the problem Harry and B’Elanna are currently fretting over. The entire power system is so delicate right now, any little jolt will cause a cascade reaction with the potential to end in catastrophe.

"And if it doesn't?"

"If it doesn't, well," I consider, "we won’t have anything to worry about. The explosion will be spectacular."

Neelix doesn't look happy at the prospective of being scattered into tiny particles across a nebula. The more I think about it, the less appealing the idea is to me as well. I sigh and get back into my seat. A quick diagnostic shows that all crucial systems are up and running, though a couple are lingering in the 'red zone', meaning that failure is imminent. A quick calculation gives me the time to total system shutdown: five minutes. I check navigation; with some non-regulation flying techniques – and who knows those better than me? -- I estimate I need less than that to be within transporter range of _Voyager_. If we can make it, then there’s no need to risk the tractor beam.

"Just give me three minutes, that's all," I say. Without waiting for Neelix’s response, I pat the console lightly as I input the sequence of maneuvers that I hope bring us to safety. We let the captain know that we’re attempting to exit the nebula, and there’s a bit of caution in her voice as she acknowledges our action.

“See you soon,” Janeway’s voice crackles over the comm. I’m grateful Tuvok keeps his counsel to himself.

My jaw tightens as the first system comes online but even with the increased load on the power systems, it appears the replaced components can handle it. Under my breath, I say, "All right, easy does it. Let's go."

The shuttle chokes to life, shuddering with the exertion, but I steady it to impulse. Thankfully the inertial dampers engage. Next to me, Neelix is gathering information on the various critical status systems and recording the stress points. He says nothing, but the thin line of his mouth reveals his anxiety.

"It's going to be fine," I say, saying the words as much for him as for me.

"Yeah," Neelix says. He glances at me sideways. "It better be, because I've got a birthday party coming up in two days."

"Right," I say. "For Ayala. Yeah, they’re counting on you for the cake. You have to be there."

"And so do you," Neelix goes on. "People depend on you. A lot. The captain, the Doctor, Harry, B'Elanna..."

"If you say so."

"You don’t sound like you believe me."

I study the sensor logs. We're making slow but steady progress, inching our way out of the swirling gases. Fortunately, the nebula has stabilized somewhat, and the ionization Janeway mentioned earlier seems to have tapered off. If conditions remain like this for the next three minutes, there appears little danger to knock us off the delicate course I’ve plotted. _Three minutes_, _just hold the course steady for the next three minutes and you’ll be home free._

"You've seemed on edge this whole trip. That's not like you, Tom." Neelix’s voice cuts through my thoughts. It seems he has an aversion to silence. Maybe like me he realizes he’s possibly spending the last moments of his life with the wrong person.

Finally, I say, “I have a lot to concentrate on right now.”

Neelix misses the hint, as he continues on, "Yes, of course. You're a very busy man. Chief pilot and medic? Not many people on this ship have such a diverse set of responsibilities."

"You can say that again." I flip a couple switches. "Can you check on the exhaust levels? I want to make sure the leakage levels remain within acceptable parameters."

"Looks like it's at point three." Neelix frowns. "That's cutting it close."

"We might have a secondary leak somewhere. Cut the flow to the regulators. That might do the trick."

Neelix complies and then settles back into his chair. "That’s better. It’s just dropped back into the acceptable range. I'll keep an eye on it."

"Thanks."

Silence falls between us for a minute or so, and then Neelix clears his throat.

"You didn't say what you'd do when you got home,” he says.

"Like I said, haven't given it much thought. Not much in the Alpha Quadrant for me anyway. I’ll probably try to get a piloting job of some sort. Not Starfleet, I don't think. Not sure they'd want me."

"Sure they would."

"You don't really know how I left things, Neelix." I sigh. "I pretty much left my self-respect in the Alpha Quadrant and I'd like to think I left the Tom Paris of Caldik Prime back there too. Not sure I really want to return, knowing how people feel about me. Including my father."

"But you've made something of yourself here on _Voyager_. How can you even say something like that?"

I glance up at the viewscreen, once again marveling at the beautiful colors in front of me, the deep, swirling purples, pinks and grays. "I'm not into humiliation for humiliation's sake, Neelix."

"Ah," Neelix says. "So you just want to keep moving. You don't want to stand still."

I glance at him, wondering where he's going with this. Sometimes, Neelix can be sneaky with his points, but other times, he's about as subtle as a sledgehammer.

"How does B'Elanna feel about all this?" Neelix continues.

"I don't know. We haven't talked about it."

"I assume she wants to go back."

"Not particularly." I shrug. "_Voyager'_s mission is our mission."

"Do you think the two of you will stay together when we return to the Alpha Quadrant?"

_In any other galaxy, under any other circumstance, would we have found our way to each other? _

"We haven’t talked about it,” I say in an even tone. It’s only been four months since our first kiss and forever seems a lot to ask from a nascent relationship. While I know so much about her, on certain subjects, she remains a cipher. “She’s her own person.”

Neelix nods. "Ah, so that's how it is." There's a note of sadness in his voice that surprises me completely. "You're letting her go."

I look at him in surprise. Where the hell did that come from? And then I remember that Neelix is more perceptive than I usually give him credit for.

"I'm not letting her go, Neelix," I say finally. I check the readings one more time. More of the systems are hovering in the 'red zone.' "But I can't be the only one holding us together."

"Like I said, you're a busy man. You need to make your priorities," Neelix says. "Understandable." He leans to the side to check out a panel. "We're back up to point five percent on the fumes. I'm going to try to prolong the circulation period before venting."

"Do that and the all of the coils will heat up to critical temperatures," I point out. Neelix nods. "Neelix, you make it sound like I'm running away, that I'm giving up on her."

"No, I'm making an observation, that's all. Relationships are hard, especially if one person isn't in the same place as the other. That's what happened with Kes and me," he says. "How much time do you need? I need to measure the coolant levels for the calculated bursts."

"About ninety seconds." My fingers fly across the panel to readjust our trajectory to get us beyond the nebula in ninety seconds. Still cutting it close, I think. "That should get us through."

Neelix tips his head to the side. "All right. I'll put this on a timed fifteen second cycle. That should keep the coils cool enough."

"Right," I say. "Sounds like you've done this before."

Neelix nods. "Yes. Back in my trading days. I was hiding in a nebula from some, um, angry customers. Though, if it wasn't for that incident, I wouldn't have met up with Kes."

"Hmm?" I'm amused. It's rare that Neelix will touch on his past, especially anything having to do with Kes. For some reason, he's close-mouthed about his life pre-_Voyager _and I don't like to pry, but I admit, my curiosity is piqued. "Angry customers?"

"I put working components on top of defective ones. However, the Kaerians figured out the trick soon enough," Neelix shrugs. "Doubled my profit on that one but lost valuable time for the next trade because I was hiding in a nebula. I was on the run from then on, which is how I eventually ran into the Kazon." He laughs. "Some of the best days of my life."

"Yeah?" Me, I wouldn't classify any encounter with the Kazon as something good, let alone ‘best.’ 

"But things are better now, don't you think?" Neelix grows pensive. "I'm grateful Captain Janeway agreed to take in me and Kes. Who knows, left to my own devices, what would have happened? I'd probably still be running from those Kaerians, trying to coax life out of failing engines..."

"All right," I say. "Clearing the nebula now." And not a minute too soon either. The readings show that nearly all vital systems are now in danger of failing within the next five minutes. B'Elanna's going to kill me but I can't think of a single additional thing I can do now that will save this shuttle. "Paris to _Voyager_. Two to beam out."


	7. Chapter 7

I have never been so glad be aboard_ Voyager_. There are times when this ship makes me crazy, when I feel antsy enough to jump out of my own skin. But right now, in the transporter room, I feel an almost peculiar emotion, a realization that I've come home. Before this moment, I never considered _Voyager_ to be anything but a temporary state of being.

Neelix turns to me, relief evident on his face. "Good work, Mr. Paris."

"No problem," I say. I step off the transporter pad and nod at Gerron, who apparently drew transporter duty this shift. "Piece of cake."

“Welcome back,” Gerron says. He grasps the edge of the console as _Voyager_ rocks slightly. Neelix and I exchange looks. RIP, _Tereshkova_. She was a good shuttle. “Captain, they’re on board.”

There’s a brief pause and then Janeway’s voice crackles over the com, “Good to hear. Mr. Paris, I’d like to see you on the Bridge.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I nod my thanks to Gerron.

Neelix hurries to catch up to me as we pass through the doors and out into the corridors. "You know, you were extraordinary out there, very calm, very collected. I was -- _am_ \-- impressed."

I brush off Neelix’s praise casually. "At the Academy, there’s a required class in the fourth and final year on managing difficult situations. As cadets, you had to pass a variety of scenarios, randomly selected, the most famous being the Kobayashi Maru.”

“I’ve heard others talk about that. It’s the ‘unwinnable’ scenario, isn’t it?” Neelix glances at me sideways. “It must have been good training because the way you acted helped me stay calm as well. I can't think of anyone else I'd rather have been stranded in a shuttle with."

I raise an eyebrow. There are entire libraries of holodeck programs dedicated to that very scenario. Color rises in Neelix's cheeks.

"You _know_ what I mean," he says, clapping me on the back. "You saved my life."

"Like I said, it’s all in a day’s work."

"But more importantly--" Neelix's expression softens -- "thank you for listening."

I look at him in surprise. "Hey, again, no problem. That's what friends are for, right?"

Neelix stops. " Until you asked, no one had really talked to me about Tali at all."

I feel guilty; it was Harry, after all, who had pushed me to bring up the subject with Neelix.

"Even with all the things you have on your mind, you took time for me," Neelix says. He leans forward, almost conspiratorially. "You're a good man, Tom Paris. Don't let anyone tell you differently."

The kindness in his tone takes me off guard momentarily. No one has said something like that to me, not in years, if at all. For the most part, in the eyes of many, I'm still Tom Paris, womanizer, cheat, thief, vagabond -- you name it. Over the past four years, I'd like to think I've become more than that, that I could become a man someone could fall in love with -- but until this moment, this very moment -- damn. Never thought it would be Neelix telling me. Yeah, the captain maybe, even Chakotay if he bothered to speak to me or B'Elanna in one of her tender moments, but dear God, never Neelix.

But then again, why am I so surprised? Back in the early years of our journey, when I 'left' _Voyager_ to trap the spy onboard, it was Neelix who had cared the most. He had been the only one to reach out while everyone else had probably been planning a 'Good Riddance to Tom Paris' party.

Even though I know circumstances have changed and opinions as well, it still feels good to hear the words, to know Neelix has seen what I have felt all these years.

I clear my throat. "It means a lot to me to hear you say that. You know, it's not easy to leave the demons of the past behind."

"But you're doing a good job at reinventing yourself," Neelix says. He resumes walking again. "I imagine you could do anything if you set your mind to it. Though, if you do want to move on after _Voyager_ returns to the Alpha Quadrant, that would be understandable. It's hard to cure wanderlust. I know."

"Neelix?" I ask uneasily. He glances at me.

"Yes?"

"What--" I swallow hard again -- "what made you change? You could have left _Voyager_ anytime. You didn't need to stay."

Neelix smiles, almost beatifically. "Some things," he says quietly, "are worth sticking around for."

"Even when it's hard?" I ask hoarsely.

"_Especially_ when it's hard." Neelix sighs. "You appreciate it more when you have to fight, Tom. The easy things, you take those for granted. But--" he pauses, a keen introspective expression lighting up his face -- "you already know that, don't you?"

There have been so many things in my life, so many of these little hurts and festering wounds -- yet somehow, I'm still here, I'm still standing.

"Think about it, Tom," Neelix urges. "And if you need to talk, you know where to find me."

I stare after his retreating figure and even after Neelix disappears into the turbolift, I remain in place. Finally, with a shake of my head, I turn and walk in the opposite direction towards the Bridge.

*****

"So what happened out there?" Janeway's voice is dangerously calm.

"Massive systems failure," I say. Next to me, Harry looks slightly nervous and I've never seen the color drain so fast from B'Elanna’s face. Only Seven remains unperturbed. "It was a cascade reaction, a systematic series of failures emitting from the main power grid. Fortunately, I was able to jury-rig the affected systems for the three minutes necessary to clear the nebula."

The set of Janeway's jaw is firm. "We were able to download the _Tereshkova_’s database before it exploded. Get down to Engineering and analyze every aspect of this incident. I want to know exactly what went wrong. I assume all of you went over every single part of this shuttle before departure, so how something like this, that led to catastrophic failure in such a short period of time, could be missed is beyond my comprehension. Dismissed."

We file out of Janeway's ready room silently. The woman is not that big in stature, but damn, she can reduce all of us to a quivering mass of gelatin with a single look. In the turbolift, I turn to the others.

"Let’s regroup in about thirty minutes. I need to get cleaned up," I tell them.

"Sounds good. I'll meet you in Engineering," Harry answers. B'Elanna nods. It's only when the doors slide open and I walk out, B'Elanna speaks.

"If you've got a minute, Tom," she says.

I look at her and think, dear God, for her, I've got minutes galore. I'll take what she'll give. Amazing. The Tom Paris of Caldik Prime could walk away so easily from this woman and it both scares me and excites me that I really do want to stay.

_Even if it is so hard, Tom?_

"Yeah," I say hoarsely. She practically flies out of the turbolift and as the doors close, she presses me against the wall, kissing me hungrily. After a breathless moment, she pulls away, her fingers lingering lightly over my lips.

“You were great out there,” she tells me.

I let the faintest hint of a smile play on my lips as I pull away, cupping my hands on her face. “Thanks, but _you_ would have saved the _Tereshkova_ too.”

B’Elanna’s gaze turns downward, her fingers knitting together. Her voice is low as she says, “I didn’t mean what I said earlier, about any first year—”

“I know,” I tell her. “I _know_.”

She’s still not looking at me. "I'm so sorry," she says. She speaks in a rush, the words flowing into each other, almost without pause. "Really, I'm so sorry, Tom, so sorry."

“You have nothing to apologize for.” I tuck my fingers under her chin. I could look into her eyes forever.

“The shuttle was my responsibility.”

"Things happen."

"Not on my watch."

She takes my arm as we start walking. Her grip is unusually tight and as I glance down at her, I notice for the first time that her eyes are rimmed with red and are even a little watery. The B'Elanna Torres I know rarely cries and this display of emotion startles me. I gently run my index finger across the bottom of her eyelid, even as I notice the quiver of her lower lip. She presses her lips together into a straight line and quickens her pace.

"I'm fine, B'Elanna," I tell her.

"You could have died," she says. Now we're in front of my quarters and she punches in the codes angrily. The doors slide open and she leads the way inside, choosing to slump bonelessly onto the sofa.

"Hey," I tell her. I strip off my jacket. "Enough already, okay? It was an accident and you have enough on your mind as it is."

"Or maybe not enough." She looks at me intensely. "Tom, do you think -- I mean, I've been thinking. What if I'm not the same person? Does that make-- does that make us different?"

I stare at her as I take off my t-shirt. "What are you talking about?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. That's the problem. Maybe it's everything, maybe it's nothing. I don't know, but I feel different. And maybe you’ve changed too."

"You mean because of the Mari?"

"Yes."

I unzip my pants and step out of them. "Look, we've been over this a million--"

"You don't understand," her voice raises to a feverish pitch. "You could have died out there and it would have been all my fault."

The note of hysteria in her voice catches my attention. "What are you talking about?"

"When you were with the Captain, you and Harry and Seven, I went back and rewired the shuttle." B'Elanna's eyes take on a distant look. "I didn't trust Seven's work, so I wanted to reset the configuration and restore it to its original specifications. I- I'm not sure I did it properly, Tom."

A chill settle over the room and the tiny blond hairs on my arm stand up.

B'Elanna shakes her head, rubbing the back of her hand against her eyes. "I thought I checked the system properly. I swear, I scanned everything according to regulations and everything seemed in order. It was only after you reported the microfractures in the power systems--" her voice breaks -- "the captain asked me to come up with a solution and I, I couldn't even think of anything to tell her. I went back over the shuttle data and it might have been written in Vulcan, for all the good it did me."

My mouth feels dry as I run my tongue over my lips carefully. Still words fail me.

"Say something," B'Elanna says softly. Her eyes are wide, watery, and her lower lip trembles. I wonder if she's going to cry. Except for the time when she was split into her Klingon and human halves by the Viidians, I've never really seen B'Elanna cry. "Tom?"

"Why did you make the repairs when we weren't there? Were you avoiding us?" I ask finally in a tone harsher than I intended.

B'Elanna sniffs. "Yes." She clutches at the armrest. "I was tired of you asking if everything was ok so I thought it would be easier if I could just do this one thing without everyone watching me…”

"So you made up the story about the diagnostic in Engineering," I finish the sentence flatly. I stare up at the ceiling.

“Yes.” She twists her hands together, weaving her fingers in and out and out and in. “But it wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be and I regretted it almost immediately.”

"Damn it, if you needed help, why didn't you ask for it?”

"I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for me. It was a simple enough repair, I thought, and you know, it’s just a matter of time. That's what the Doctor said."

"But you _have_ to let us know." I pound my fist into the palm of my hand. "B'Elanna, it’s not a sign of weakness to tell people when something is wrong. If you don't want to tell me, tell Chakotay. God knows, enough people were worried about you. Hell, _I_ told Chakotay you were fit for duty. You made a liar out of me."

"I'm sorry."

I sigh. In a way, I share responsibility for what happened; I tend to hide from the bad and imagine the good. While I'd been aware of what was happening to B'Elanna, I didn't push as hard as I should have.

"I know you are," I tell her. A shiver runs down my spine, but I’m rooted to the floor. "Look, I know you didn't want anyone to know you weren't a hundred percent, I understand how that made you feel, but you should have said something.” There’s an edge to my tone.

"You think I don't know _that_?" B'Elanna's lower lip quivered. "Tom, I could have killed you.”

I grab her shoulder, pulling her close to me. I can never handle a lady in distress and honestly, tears have a way of knocking me sideways. B'Elanna finally pulls away, rubbing her hand across her watery eyes. She looks unusually vulnerable now, soft, and oh so irresistible. I realize she's frightened, that I'm frightened, and before the Mari, this relationship was easy. Yes, we bickered, but nothing serious, nothing that would pull us in opposite directions.

We are damaged people, both of us beaten in our own ways. What would be another hurt to throw onto the pile of already smoldering resentments? Going our separate ways has got to hurt less than where we are now -- this much I'm sure of. But there is something about B'Elanna, _possibilities_ dancing in those dark eyes that makes me grab at her hand.

And damn, despite my passivity over the last few days, my utter inability to move where B'Elanna is concerned, I know instinctively -- I know I can't let her go.

_Even if it is so hard, Tom?_

And I silence the voice in my head. Damn right, I think. I don't have a reason for staying, not one I can vocalize, only a feeling. Somehow, that's going to have to be enough and I think - no, I know - that a feeling is enough and for now, I can feel enough for the both of us.

"Don't worry," I tell her. "We're going to work through this together."

"We are?" B'Elanna looks stunned.

"Yeah," I say. I think back to my earlier conversation with the captain. "You’ve been through a lot, B’Elanna, and you threw yourself right back into the swing of things. But it’s nothing we can’t handle. _Together_." It sounds almost ordinary, as if we're discussing breakfast, but the promise dangles out there and I hope against hope that she takes it.

B’Elanna doesn’t disappoint. "I didn't think you'd stick around. I mean, after I told you what I did. Why would you?"

Good point, but Neelix is right: some things are worth sticking around for. The Tom Paris I used to be, well, he used to flee when the going got tough. The further I get away from the man I was, the more comfortable is the realization that I’m parting ways with that evanescent life.

"You're going to have to try a lot harder to get rid of me," I tell her. It's a joke, but I can tell by B'Elanna's expression that she doesn't take it as such. I catch her by the wrist, pulling her close. "B'Elanna." Her hair is soft against my cheek, and it smells sweet, floral. I press my lips against the nape of her neck, feeling her arms encircle me. She is warm against me. "I'm not letting you off that easily."

“What?"

"You heard _me_. And if I recall correctly, we agreed to meet Harry in a few minutes to review the incident—"

B'Elanna stares at me in disbelief. “That’s not necessary. We know what happened-"

"We _don’t_," I tell her. "I know you're unsure of yourself right now, but you don’t know the changes you made caused the cascade reaction.” I place my hands on her shoulders, square my gaze with hers. “Don’t you think you owe it to yourself, to me, to find out for sure?” I inhale sharply. “Don’t overlook the possibility you might not have been to blame.” This last bit, I say it for me as much as for her.

B'Elanna's cheeks flush. "That's not what I'm doing!"

"Then what do you call what you’re doing right now?" I ask.

"I'm accepting responsibility--" her lower trembles “—I’m going to tell the captain and then I’ll ask to be relieved of duty.”

“I’m only asking you to wait for the investigation to be completed.”

“I don’t want to take the chance—"

Frustration tingles through every nerve in my body. I inhale sharply, moderate my tone. "B'Elanna, I’m trying everything I can to help you, but somehow, I can't reach you."

"What do you want from me?"

"Everything," I say automatically. It surprises me by how much I really mean that and just how much I need her to be herself again. And maybe, just maybe, she’s right and I’m wrong. Ever since her rescue from the Mari, I’ve rationalized, I’ve made excuses, overlooked and ignored, and now there’s just this one thing she’s asking me. I let my breath out, my shoulders relaxing as I step closer to her. "Look, I’ll go to Sickbay with you. If that's what you want, what you _need_."

Her eyes water as she nods.

I grab her fingers and kiss them lightly. "I'll always be there. No matter what."

"Damn you, Paris," she says, but there is no heat underlying her words. I can deal with various incarnations of B'Elanna, but the soft, weepy B'Elanna is not one I'm real sure of. I pull her close to me and she rests her head against on my chest. "I nearly kill you and you're still... you're still here."

I like -- no, _love_ \-- the sound of her words, the sound of her voice. My fingers stroke her hair lightly and I think she knows, even without the words, I think she knows.

I'm not going anywhere.


	8. Chapter 8

After some additional scans, the Doctor agrees the treatment he initially administered to reverse the engrammatic purge hadn’t been quite as successful as he hoped. He immediately schedules B’Elanna for surgery, which lasts about an hour. Following the procedure, the Doctor ordered B’Elanna on medical leave for an additional week. Amazingly, she accepts his verdict meekly and returns to her quarters, not even fussing at me for 'hovering.' As she crawls into bed, I notice just how tired she looks. I lie down next to her, wrapping my arms around her.

"You were right," she says softly. She has been saying those words over and over, a constant refrain. There’s a bit of heat in her voice as she says, “_This_ time.” She sighs as she folds effortlessly against me. “If I could just stop thinking about what _could_ have happened…”

“The shuttle accident _wasn’t_ your fault,” I remind her sharply. After a thorough analysis of the cascade failure, we determined the actual failure mode to a faulty solenoid valve, which had then allowed the adverse interaction of the nebular gases with the _dilithium_ matrix. B’Elanna was relieved that her second guessing of Seven’s modifications was not the ultimate culprit, but rather a contributing event. That being said, her team _should_ have caught the defective valve and she admitted that she’d overlooked it in her rush to overrule Seven. “Stop blaming yourself for that.”

“No. It’s what happened with the Mari.” She twists to face me. “it still bothers me. I replay the moment when Frane bumped into me and everything that followed. The jail cell, the handcuffs, being restrained on the table, the injection, the beginning of the purge…” her voice drifts off. “What _if_ Tuvok _hadn’t _found out the truth?”

The question lies between us. How many times in the last week have we asked that very same question? Her breath comes in short, frequent bursts.

“You know the answer to that,” I tell her softly. “I was going to come for you. Concentrate on that.”

Her hand curls into mine. “I know.”

"It’s going to be all right," I whisper into her ear. Her hair is soft against her cheek and I gently brush it away with my fingers. I love the way her skin feels beneath my touch and I realize I'll never get tired of feeling the way her muscles relax beneath my fingers. "Eventually, the memory will become easier to live with.”

“Is that what happened with Caldik Prime?”

I pause and then decide to tell the truth. “Yes.” I clear my throat. “I’ll always remember what happened, what I did, but it’s not always uppermost in my mind, not anymore. You don’t ever forget these things that happen to you, to those you care about.” I look at our intertwined fingers. “But you do figure out it’s easier to bear when you’re not alone.”

B’Elanna’s breath calms. “You never talk about it though.”

"There isn’t anything to say.” A beat passes and then I ask, “What do you want to know?”

"Everything.”

So I tell her. The words spill out. I haven’t told the entire story since we first entered the Delta Quadrant, and it feel as if I’m a Greek chorus telling the story of a flawed hero, the son of a God, who flew too close to the sun and fell to Earth. Immortality is a delusion of the young, I know now. When I finish, B’Elanna is still and I wonder if she’s asleep. But a glance at her eyes shows that they are open.

“That must have been so hard for you,” B’Elanna says softly.

“Yeah,” I answer. I think back to those early days before the truth came out, when Caldik Prime was just known as a terrible accident when three officers in the prime of their lives died tragically. “When I finally told the truth, that was the most alone I’d ever felt.” I lift her fingers to my lips. “And once I was dishonorably discharged from Starfleet, I had nothing but time to think about what had happened, what I could have done differently, _why_ I had even suggested the starburst formation in the first place.” I pause. “And I was too proud to ask for help. You know how that story ends, right? In Auckland, via the Maquis?”

“And now _Voyager_.”

"And now _Voyager_," I confirm. I smile, knowing what she wants to hear. "A ship with the most brilliant chief engineer in all four quadrants.”

She smiles up at me as I lean over to kiss her on the lips. Her hand snakes to the back of my neck, pulling me down. And for a time, we both forget everything.

*****

"Is this seat taken?"

I look up from my PADD to see Chakotay. He stands, a little self-consciously, at the edge of my table, a food tray in hand. I shake my head in the affirmative.

"Go ahead, have a seat," I tell him.

"Thanks." Chakotay pulls out a chair and places his tray on the table. I notice he's eating Neelix's special today, an interesting concoction of leola root sprinkled liberally with some of the fruits and vegetables procured from the Mari homeworld. I, on the other hand, used precious replicator rations for pepperoni pizza. "Catching up on some work?"

I nod. "Navigational charts for the next star system. A good pilot always does his homework."

Chakotay begins to eat and then makes a face at his first bite. I hide a smile at his expression and after a few more valiant attempts, Chakotay surrenders and puts down his fork.

"I guess you heard that the captain was unable to change the basic structure of the gas to work with the dilithium," Chakotay says. “Similar to your experience, the mixture is too unstable during the interaction.”

"Yes. I did hear. That’s disappointing," I say.

"It was still worth a try. I agree with the captain that we can’t leave any options on the table if it offers the possibility of getting home more quickly."

"No, indeed," I say. "Though, to be honest, I'm starting to like it out here."

Chakotay glances at me speculatively. "I thought you might."

I bristle. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Chakotay holds up his hand, as if trying to calm me. "There’s no hidden meaning to what I said, Tom, and I can't say I disagree with you. I don't know what's waiting for us in the Alpha Quadrant, but I’m certain Starfleet won't greet the Maquis with open arms."

"You're probably right. But look on the bright side. Maybe in seventy years, they'll have forgotten all about the Maquis," I offer. _Or a former convict on parole. _

Chakotay presses his lips into a thin smile. "I'm still holding out hope," he says with a brooding gaze "The captain wants to get this crew home and she wants to do it in less than seventy years. I intend to support her in that."

"I didn't say I wouldn't," I say. God, I hate the way Chakotay manages to get under my skin with his insinuations. I suppose this is why we never spend time together outside of a professional environment; we probably annoy each other way too much.

"How is B'Elanna?" Chakotay asks. Strangely enough, B'Elanna is neutral ground for us these days.

"Better, much better," I say and this time, I’m telling the truth. After completing her the additional treatments and resting during her medical leave, B'Elanna has regained nearly everything she has lost, including her focus. She occasionally still has moments when she replays her incarceration by the Mari, but those are getting fewer and far between with the passage of time. "She’s glad to get back to work."

Chakotay shakes her head. "I can imagine. I honestly didn't believe it when the Doctor told me she’d agreed to be relieved of duty."

"She knew it was the right thing to do for _Voyager_." I smile. During her leave – much of it spent in my quarters -- B'Elanna fretted over every little sound and vibration emitting from her beloved engines and wondering over what Seven was up to and whether Engineering would be completely 'Borgified' by the time she returned. I told her not to worry about it; Joe Carey would make sure that wouldn’t happen.

Chakotay clears his throat. "Neelix told me you really handled yourself well under pressure out there."

I shrug. "Given the circumstances, the alternative wasn't an option."

"No one would have faulted you if you had panicked."

I bite back my annoyance. _Of course Chakotay would think the worst of me. _Distractedly, I pluck a slice of pepperoni off my pizza. "I'm just glad everything turned out for the best."

"I agree." Chakotay eyes me intensely. "Tom, I know we don't talk often. Too much water under the bridge, I suppose, but I'd like to think we've gotten past that. That we were on our way to becoming friends."

I blink. Friendship with Chakotay isn’t something I've ever considered. I've always leaned on B'Elanna and Harry, and Chakotay has always maintained a professional distance. But then again, I never tried to breach his thick veneer of formality.

"No need to tread over old ground," Chakotay goes on. "I know we've had our disagreements and maybe I haven't trusted you or respected you in the manner you deserve. I'd like to change all that, if you're willing."

I nod, still in shock. "Yes."

"I want you to understand that I couldn't make a decision about going in after B'Elanna without violating the the Mari’s rule of law. You know we're duty-bound to obey the laws of individual worlds," Chakotay says. He sighs heavily. "That doesn't mean I didn't want to do it, Tom. If I could have found a way that would have minimized risk and still upheld Starfleet's principles, I would have. Putting you off, well, that was hard. B'Elanna's one of my closest friends and I don't want you to think I was treating her situation lightly. On the contrary, in this instance, I couldn't act on my feelings."

“Regulations on other worlds aren’t that sacred to me when it comes to a member of this crew. I’m surprised it means so much to _you_.” I'm not being belligerent and to my relief, Chakotay considers my comment thoughtfully. “It’s a good thing Tuvok was able to uncover the truth.”

Chakotay’s gaze is level as he meets mine. "Whatever plan you'd have come up with, I would have seriously considered it," he says. "I wouldn't have left B'Elanna down there." He sucks in his breath. “You have my word on that.”

It’s nice to hear Chakotay acknowledge what happened on the Mari homeworld. I’d been aghast at his utter distance from the situation, his calm and collected demeanor. It had made me wonder, at the time, where had the Maquis in Chakotay gone? The one who wouldn't hold back for any reason in order to save a friend?

"Glad to hear it," I say finally. My throat is hoarse, almost scratchy with emotion.

Chakotay pushes back his chair. "I'm going to find something else to eat." He grimaces. "Maybe drop in on B'Elanna."

"She'd like that," I tell him. Chakotay walks away and I return my attention to my navigational charts. On his way back from the recycler, Chakotay stops by the table, his fingers lightly brushing against the edge.

"I haven't given you much of a chance, Tom. Maybe I didn't want to. I'm protective of B'Elanna, and I admit I didn't know what to think when you two paired up. I didn’t want to see her get hurt," he says softly. "But I was wrong. You’re good for her. Whatever else remains between the two of us doesn't change what you do for B'Elanna."

With that, Chakotay exits the Mess Hall, leaving me to pick my jaw up off the floor.

*****

B’Elanna is waiting when I arrive at her quarters, roses in hand. She wraps her arms around me, her lips soft on mine, and there’s weakness in my knees as I reconsider the evening’s plans. She pulls away gently, puts the roses and in water, and then realizes I’m watching her. Her smile is seductive as she twirls for me, the skirt of the green velvet dress flaring out around her knees. It's the gift I brought back from the Mari homeworld for her, the one I'd almost given up hope she'd ever open.

"You--" I pause as I stand by the table, my hand on the back of the chair. "Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful, Tom. Thank you," her voice is soft.

"So are you," I tell her. I pull her close, running my fingers over the ribbon trimming the top of the bodice and then upward, to the little straps holding the dress up. It amazes me how she can take my breath away so completely. "_You're_ beautiful."

Color rises in her cheeks.

"Thank you." And then, my soft, self-conscious B'Elanna recovers herself. "So, you said you had something special planned tonight?"

"Holodeck," I tell her. I extend my arm and she accepts it, but only briefly; in the corridor, she lets go, though our appearance makes it clear to our fellow crewmembers we are off duty.

I picked an old Chicago hotel -- the Driskill -- for our dinner. Inside the wide arching doorway, our feet sink into the deep red carpet. Steps spiral around the lobby, leading to the second level. As we walk up the staircase, I run my fingers over the cool brass railing and look around at the dark wood paneling and the gentle glow of chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. A quick look at the elevator, the doors closing on a couple, reminds me of something.

"We have a room on the top floor," I whisper. B'Elanna tosses me a glance, one that promises delicious and unimaginable things later. "Imagine a view of Chicago at night from our very own rooftop terrace."

"Sounds wonderful."

Dinner is already waiting in the Mezzanine, a marble-floored hall with Ionic pillars reaching up to the ornately carved ceiling. White china, with gold edging, and crystal wine glasses make up the table settings. White roses -- twelve of them -- surround a single gold candle. B'Elanna grabs my arm. Off to the side, a string quartet plays softly.

"It's beautiful," she says. "You must have spent hundreds of hours on this."

"Something like that." I grin and pull out a chair. "But for you, it's worth it."

Our dinner conversation is soft, occasionally wistful. We've come to a point in our relationship where we no longer feel the need to fill every silence with words. Sometimes, I adore just looking at her, taking in every detail of her face, from the peak of her hairline to the curve of her jaw. It amazes me that I can never tire of looking at her and I wonder if she ever looks at me with the same awe.

Once, before the Mari, I woke up to see her gazing fixedly at me.

"What are you doing?" I asked. "It's a little spooky, you know, the way you're staring at me."

She pressed her lips into a tight straight line, and I wondered if I had said something wrong, but then she had stroked my chest lightly with her fingers.

"I wanted to make sure you were still here," she said. "Make sure you weren’t something out of my imagination."

"I'm here," I answered. "And I'm real." Not the most poetic of answers, but not the moment to be glib either. B'Elanna smiled and snuggled back down under the covers, resting her head against my chest.

Now, B'Elanna looks at me. "Tom, I know these last days have been difficult."

"B'Elanna--"

"Let me finish. I was scared, Tom, and I took a lot of that out on you, on everyone around me. I appreciate you hanging in there."

"Anytime," I tell her, but my voice is hoarse, catches in my throat, and I can only extend my hand. She takes it, curling her fingers around my palm; her skin is cool next to mine. "I mean that, B'Elanna."

Her lower lip quivers ever so slightly and then she nods. "So, you're going to be stuck with a mean-tempered Klingon for a long time, Tom. Be careful what you wish for."

I lean forward. "You made that threat a while ago, and I've got to tell you, it hasn't been so bad."

"Really?" B'Elanna quirks a smile. "Not so bad, Lieutenant?"

I lean back in my chair, more comfortable now than I have been in days.

"Well, you know..." I let my voice drift off as I swallow hard. She leans towards me, her eyes bright and large; the gold chain around her neck catches the light as do the little pearl drop earrings in her ears. There's something about the way her hair curls up just at the jaw line, and the way her lips press together, full, wide and utterly inviting. Words, for the first time in my life, fail me. "It's been..."

"Yeah," B'Elanna says. She reaches over and covers my hand with hers. "I know."

I'm relieved that she's saved me from dissolving in a puddle of goo on the marble floor. I push back my chair.

"Care to dance?" I ask. She smiles at me.

"I'm not a very good dancer," she says.

"Doesn't matter," I tell her. I pull her to her feet. In the background, music begins to play. Originally, I'd planned for swing music, but now I know I want something more contemplative, gentle and soothing. "Computer, delete band and replace with orchestra."

B'Elanna looks amused. "Any reason for the change in music?"

I smile at her and extend my hand. "Come," I tell her. She places her palm against mine and we step out onto the dance floor. As the orchestra plays softly in the background, I wrap my arms around her. For the first time in days, I feel completely at peace. All my life I’ve been running away, but now as I thumb the sharp curve of B’Elanna’s jaw, I appreciate what staying in one place means. The two of us are no longer moving away from each other, but for once, are in perfect symphony.


End file.
